Thank you for your comments following my posting last week. As I am sure you will understand this has all come very suddenly to me, so your kindness is appreciated. I will try to relate what happened during the rest of last week, although it has been something of a roller-caster ride and looking back it is still a little blurred in places. No doubt for many of you this is all a bit mundane, but you must understand that for me it has been life-changing. After the events of Tuesday night, I started to feel a little guilty. Whilst my husband had betrayed me by talking about the intimate secrets of our marriage to other people, I had now betrayed him more. He was asleep when I got home that night. The next day was an odd mixture of feeling guilty marvelling at myself for having had the courage to do what I did. Wednesday night I cooked him a nice dinner and tried to instigate an early night, but he didn’t seem to want to know, which I found frustrating. Instead he spent several hours in his study on his computer. Thursday night was the first club night of the new season so we both went down to the club. Mike gets a bit bored with the poor standard of tennis and so after an hour or so retired to the bar. I carried on until almost nine, although the last hour or so had been under the floodlights and I don’t really enjoy that as much. When I went back into the club to get changed I bumped into Danny. I thought he might be embarrassed, but far from it. We had a brief chat and I asked him if he’d enjoyed the other night. He said it had been great and then added ‘his mates didn’t believe it’. I was stunned by this. Why do men have to tell everyone about their sex lives? I went to shower vowing never to do anything so stupid again. But in the shower, as the hot water ran over my naked body, I started to think it was quite a compliment, a young lad in his twenties bragging to his mates about me. By the time I finished in the shower I was quite turned on. When I got to the bar I discovered that Mike had gone on for a drink with a couple of his cronies leaving the car keys behind the bar for me. So much for my turn to have a drink! I also discovered a slightly subdued Danny, who came over and asked if I was upset and said he was sorry he’d told his mates and that he hadn’t meant to be so insensitive! I couldn’t believe how mature he sounded for such a young man. ‘Come on’, I said, ‘I’ll drive you home’. We chatted as we drove back but as we came to the lovers lane he went very quiet and, as I drove on past, he looked rather disappointed. When we got to his house he thanked me for the lift and I asked if he was going to make me a cup of coffee. He looked a bit embarrassed and said his flat mates would be in. I told him it was just a cup of coffee, so why should they mind? So in we went. There were two boys sprawled around in the sitting room watching football on the television. They were surprised to see me and tidied up a little which I thought was sweet. I was introduced to Jo and Stevie. Jo worked with Danny for a firm of accountants in the City and Stevie worked locally in Harrow. Apparently they had all been to University together. Danny made some coffee, dreadful cheap instant stuff, and we sat on a sofa and pretended to watch the football. Nobody spoke for several minutes. Then I said suddenly: ‘I understand you didn’t believe Danny the other night?’ The silence was now deafening. I think the commentators on the television lowered their voices slightly, as if straining to hear the reply. Then Stevie said ‘it just seemed a bit unlikely’. The silence returned and all their attention was focused on the television, more out of embarrassment than interest, I thought. I put my coffee down and knelt in front of Danny. He was gob-smacked. He was still dressed from the tennis so I just pulled down his tracksuit bottoms and pants in one go. He might have been embarrassed, but his erection was hotly disputing this. I dropped my head and gave him his second blow job of the week. A matter of minutes and my mouth was filled with his hot sticky cream. I stood and turned round to the other two boys, who had by now forgotten all about the football. ‘I always like cream with my coffee’, I said. And with a quick kiss on Danny’s cheek I left, Danny’s trousers still round his ankles but his ego, I imagined, flying happily around the room. As I drove home I felt very good about myself. This has all turned out rather more long-winded than I had expected. Let me know if you want to know more and I’ll tell you about Friday night.